


You Fill Up My Senses (Come Fill Me Again)

by Weddersins



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, FG Ben Solo, Good Boy Sweater, Post tros fic, Rey gets to grieve, TRoS Spoilers, Tatooine (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weddersins/pseuds/Weddersins
Summary: Rey tries to find herself in the sands of Tatooine, but finds the echo of someone else instead. Grief, catharsis, and Force Ghosts.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 5
Kudos: 93
Collections: TROS Reylo Fix-it Fics, The Rise of Skywalker: Fix-It Fic Edition





	You Fill Up My Senses (Come Fill Me Again)

**Author's Note:**

> Crossing my fingers notes don’t appear in the search.
> 
> This is a mini fix-it/catharsis fic, what I hope happens after we leave Rey alone on Tatooine. A bit of angst, with joy at the end. Inspired by Annie’s Song and a thread on Twitter.

  
  


Rey sits in the ruins of the Lars Homestead - a place she’s never been, but one that feels familiar all the same. It’s as good a place as any, she thinks. She knows what to do in the sand. Knows what to do with broken things. 

Knows how to wait. 

She’s gotten a few of the moisture evaporators back online, their quiet humming a peaceful soundtrack to her silent days. She’s been digging the sand out of the rooms, one by one, dredging out the memories along with it. 

Rey swears she hears Luke’s voice in the dark machine shop, youthful and petulant. 

Sometimes she sees him and Leia as she knew them, aged and grey. They are peaceful, now. Finally at rest. It’s good to speak with them again, quiet words to fill her empty days.

Sometimes all she has to do is think of them, and they’ll appear. 

But she has never seen _him._

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t try. 

_Be with me,_ she whispers to the setting suns. _Be with me,_ she tells the quiet stars.

But the heavenly bodies remain silent, her words disappearing into the grains of sand and the blowing wind.

The days blend into weeks, and Rey continues to carve out her home. 

Finn and Poe’s messages continue to go unanswered. She isn’t ready, she tells herself. Someday she may be. But not now. 

Eventually, the messages slow. Someday they may cease all together, and Rey isn't sure she minds. 

The silence is peaceful, the throbbing of the hole in her chest chasing her heartbeats as she tries to decide if she wants to remember or forget. 

_Be with me,_ she cries, _be with me._

The hot wind brushes her skin, but no words are carried on its breeze. 

She continues to wait, to mark the sunsets she sees on the wall and to ignore how many days she’s collected without him. 

It feels important to remember, even as the knowledge burns. 

Then months pass and the silence goes from healer to torturer. She rages into the darkness, throwing tools and screaming her anger and pain to the bright sky above. 

She ignores the ghosts of her teachers as they offer meaningless platitudes - _his_ uncle, _his_ mother - she cries into her bed at night as the phantom pain in her chest throbs and swells. 

_Be with me,_ she sobs, _be with me._

And now the silence jails her. 

She wakes in the middle of the night, a cold sweat drenching her body and panic flowing weakening her limbs. The room is too small, her blanket too rough, the darkness too heavy for the panicked breaths burning her lungs. 

She bursts into the desert, lets numb feet carry her away from the house with it’s quiet industry and its ghosts and the faces of the dead who are _so close_ and yet _so far_ from who she needs. 

The three moons smolder in the skies above, their pale reflections of the twin sun’s light illuminate her footsteps. She screams into the emptiness of the night, hoarse and hungry. 

_Be with me,_ she rages, _be with me._

Her legs shake, her chest burns, and the silence winds its fingers around her throat. Rey stumbles to the x-wing, the one she swore she’d never touch again, never leave this planet she’s chosen to call her home -

The three moons refract into a thousand splinters of light in the cracked glass, diffusing into a pale glow over the neatly folded sweater with its tiny hole. 

The dust of a faraway planet settles on her shoulders along with the thin fabric, as she pretends the arms around her middle aren’t her own. 

_Be with me,_ she mourns, _be with me._

The whole of her side aches, the limp thread that once connected them sore and throbbing with unutterable pain. 

The cockpit smells of him, the slightly charred scent of a forest dark and deep, of damp moss and clear mountain air, but she can’t force her wet eyes open to look, can’t stand the knowledge they’d be met with nothing. She is full of the scent of rain, the bright ozone of a desert storm, 

“It’s not you,” she weeps, “it can’t be.”

Fingers brush her wet cheeks, soft lips whisper against the column of her throat as she sobs. 

Grasping hands rise to touch a face that isn’t there as Rey keeps her eyes shut tight - she won’t look, she can’t look. Arms wind tight against her back, her damp cheeks buried in soft fabric against a chest that is both there and _not_ -

 _I’m with you,_ he sighs against her hair _, I’m with you._

Rey awakens with a jolt, alone in her own bed but clutching the dark sweater to her chest as her sense of him fades. 

She swears she sees him in the soft light, smells the sea-salt of the ocean island and it’s new life - she thinks it’s too much, it can’t be - but there is nothing left she hasn’t lost, nothing to gain by standing still. Tentative steps bring her out of her room, stumbling feet pull across the dune to a figure the color of moonlight. 

He wavers, almost vanishes - but stays, all the same, the pain and desperation on his face a mirror of her soul. 

She calls his name. 

He echoes back. 

Knees in the sand, heart in her throat, she’s held by arms that aren’t there. Fingers caress a cheek colder than a grave and warmer than sunshine, mouth on welcoming lips.

“I’ve missed you,” she cries, burying her nose into the soft space below his ear, “be with me, Ben.”

She looks deep into dark eyes cast in blue, watches them crinkle at the edges into a smile, and she’s too full for words - joy and hope, pain and sadness, the echoes of life and death brought down from the stars. 

When he speaks, tears fall unbidden from her smiling eyes. 

“I will always be with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/weddersins).


End file.
